Su Manqing felt it deeply, that sense of injustice that refused to settle no matter how many times she tried to reason with herself.
Why was she not legitimate?
She and Lu Jiaxin were the same, weren't they? Both actresses. Both women shaped by the camera, by public opinion, by an industry that consumed youth and sincerity without mercy. Lu Jiaxin had been adored, yes, but so had she. She had worked just as hard, endured just as much, bent herself just as carefully to fit expectations.
So why was Lu Jiaxin the wife, and she the shadow?
Her gaze drifted back to the man beside her.
Xu Minghao was undeniably handsome, even now. His features were refined, his bearing effortless in the way that only wealth and confidence could produce. He carried himself with the assurance of someone who had never had to worry about whether he belonged in a room. He simply did.
He was rich. Well-connected. A man whose surname alone opened doors.
